


to the future

by stammiviktor



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 2017 World Figure Skating Championships, Canon Compliant, Emotional Talks, Established Relationship, Fluff, Grand Gestures, M/M, Mostly Chaste Nudity, Plans For The Future, Post-Canon, Romance, Yuuri and Viktor love each other very much, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24813673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stammiviktor/pseuds/stammiviktor
Summary: Yuuri wins gold at Worlds—and we all know what that means.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 35
Kudos: 358





	to the future

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for [Haro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haro/works) in support of organizations related to the Black Lives Matter movement!
> 
> Thank you so much to Tess ([thewalrus_said](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said)) for beta-ing!

Yuuri obliterates the men’s free skate world record, landing four perfect quads in one program, then trips on the carpet on his way to the podium. It isn’t his fault, not really—his vision is obstructed. When the announcers call Viktor’s name, he gives Yuuri’s hand a little squeeze and takes off on the ice, and the tears pooling in Yuuri’s eyes make it very difficult to see when he skates out after him. 

Yuri and Viktor, standing on either side of the podium, catch Yuuri by the arms so he doesn’t face-plant on the platform. “Very elegant, Katsudon,” Yuri scoffs, softly enough that the cameras won’t pick it up.

Viktor does not let go of Yuuri’s arm once Yuuri successfully mounts the podium. Instead, his hand slides downward to take Yuuri’s. The podium makes up for their normal height difference, so when Yuuri looks to his right, he finds himself eye-level with his fiancé. It takes every bit of his athlete’s self-discipline not to kiss Viktor Nikiforov right on the mouth in front of the world.

“If you kiss him, I’m not talking to you for a month,” Yuri growls from Yuuri’s left side, his mouth still stretched in a toothy smile.

“How did you know I—”

“Hold up your medal, darling!” Viktor prompts, smiling for the cameras, his silver medal held in his right hand. His left is still occupied with Yuuri’s, their fingers laced together. 

There’s a gold medal around Yuuri’s neck. As the cameras flash, the realization slams into Yuuri for the fourth time in the past hour—he is the World Champion of men’s singles figure skating. He’s broken Viktor Nikiforov’s world record  _ and  _ his winning streak. And there’s Viktor Nikiforov, standing right next to him with his palm flush against Yuuri’s. There’s Viktor Nikiforov, leaning over and pressing a kiss to the center of Yuuri’s medal. 

The crowd roars. Yuri Plisetsky growls. Yuuri’s tear-filled eyes overflow, tracks of water spilling down his cheeks. His smile wobbles and he clutches Viktor as hard as he can, refusing to hide his face behind his hands. 

This is real, he is here, this is _ real. _

“You said I couldn’t kiss Yuuri,” Viktor tells the world bronze medalist through his heart-shaped smile. “You didn’t say I couldn’t kiss his medal.”

“You’re the worst, you’re both  _ awful—” _

“Smile for the cameras, Yurio!”

…

“Skater Nikiforov! How does it feel to have taken back your free skate world record, only to have it beaten five minutes later by your own student?”

Viktor leans forward to speak into the table mic, a giant smile on his face. “I know, isn’t Yuuri amazing? I’m the proudest coach in the world.”

“But surely you were a bit disappointed! After your victory at Europeans, and Skater Katsuki’s victory at Four Continents, the two of you were neck-and-neck entering this showdown here at Worlds—”

“If that is how you would like to dramatize it, then sure,” Viktor says with a dismissive wave. “As a skater, every competition contains elements of disappointment, because there is always something you could have done better. But I came today to do my best, and I can’t be happier with the results.”

“Now that your five-year winning streak is over, how do you feel?"

Viktor’s eye twitches. His patience seems to be wearing thin. “If you would like the honest answer,” he replies, his hand reaching over to take Yuuri’s for support, “I’m relieved. Now, enough about me. Let’s ask our two Yuris some questions, hm?”

“Skater Katsuki! Now that you’ve won Worlds, what are your plans for next season?”

That question, at least, is an easy one. He and Viktor had already decided on the answer they would give if anyone asked.

Yuuri smiles, leans forward to the mic, and replies, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

…

Their  _ Stammi Vicino Duetto  _ exhibition skate does not go as planned.

Skating with Viktor has always been a transformational experience. The very first time it happened, at Ice Castle when Viktor taught Yuuri the choreography for  _ Eros,  _ Yuuri had stepped off the ice light-headed. The first time they skated together in front of an audience, during the gala at the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri had been transported to another plane of existence entirely, one where all that existed was the ice, their blades, and their bodies moving in time with one another. At the end of the program, clutching each other in their final pose, Yuuri had thought he might collapse from the high.

At Worlds, they perform their pairs skate for the second time, but when the music draws to a close and Yuuri comes back to himself, he realizes they’re not standing in their final pose. 

Yuuri looks down. Viktor is down on one knee on the ice, both his hands reaching up to clutch Yuuri’s, their pair of golden rings shining in the spotlight. 

The crowd is on their feet and screaming. Yuuri can hardly hear his own voice.

“Viktor— what—” He’s panting from the exertion of the lifts, and so is Viktor. 

“Katsuki Yuuri. Now that you’ve won a gold medal… will you marry me?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, Viktor, you’re ridiculous, I won gold at Four Continents, we’re already  _ engaged—” _

“I know! Please, Yuuri, will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes,  _ yes,  _ Viktor, Vitya, I—” Yuuri pulls Viktor up onto his skates, takes his face between his palms, and kisses him until they’re dizzy.

…

Their lips part, briefly, for the time it takes to skate off the ice, put on their skate guards, and find an unlocked supply closet.

“Yuuri, mm, Yuuri.” Viktor breathes against Yuuri’s mouth, chasing away the lingering chill of the ice arena. 

Suddenly, they’re toppling over. Yuuri throws his hands out to catch their bodies against the wall. A bundle of hockey sticks clatters to the ground. “Careful—” 

Viktor shakes his leg, trying to free his skate. “What is that?” 

Yuuri squints, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the dark. The closet is lit only by a sliver of light coming from beneath the door. He crouches down, his hands trailing down Viktor’s sides and untangling his covered skate blade. “Oh, it’s a hockey net."

“Come back up here and kiss me. Unless you want to…?”

“Viktor, we’re in a closet.”

“I just proposed to you in front of tens of thousands of people. I think the world knows we’re extremely gay for each other.”

Yuuri snorts a laugh. “You’re funny.”

“Was it too much?”

Yuuri stands, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s waist and pressing kisses into the skin above the collar of his costume. “Was what too much?”

“The proposal.”

Yuuri’s mouth freezes. He can feel Viktor’s pulse beating wildly beneath his lips. “It was a little redundant, since we’ve been publicly engaged for three months already.”

“Ah. Right.”

“But I’m realizing now, neither of us ever said the words before, did we?”

“The words?”

“‘Will you marry me.’”

“No, we didn’t,” Viktor agrees. “I seem to recall something about a good luck charm.”

“And then a very brazen announcement to an entire restaurant an hour later.  _ Once Yuuri wins gold.” _

“You know I would have married you no matter what.”

“Oh yeah. But this game was way more fun.”

“I thought it was fun, too.”

Yuuri tucks his head against Viktor’s shoulder. Without the podium beneath their feet, their height difference has been restored, perfect for nestling himself against Viktor’s chest. “I love that you did this. You never fail to surprise me. And it’s never going to be ‘too much.’” 

“Never?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t test me, Yuuri. I have a lot of ideas about our future. I could tell you about them, but you’d take off running.”

Yuuri pulls back, worry spiking in his heart. He searches Viktor’s eyes for any hint of the insecurity he hides so well from the world but can’t hide from Yuuri. It’s not there. There’s hardly any light in the room, but from this close Yuuri can tell—Viktor’s eyes are smiling. He’s joking, he’s  _ teasing Yuuri,  _ he knows Yuuri isn’t going anywhere. 

“Alright, Vitya. Let’s hear it.”

Viktor moves a hand from Yuuri’s chest so he can press a thoughtful finger to his own lips. “Well, we’re going to buy a house in Hasetsu.”

“Okay. Keep going.”

“We’ll retire there. Our bedroom will have a view of the sea. We’ll take Makkachin on walks along the beach every morning. We’ll be married, of course, very happily. We’ll buy Ice Castle from its current owners and put the Nishigoris in charge of operations. We’ll refurbish it, maybe expand a little, and figure skaters will come from all over Japan to be trained by Viktor and Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov—including Yura, once Yakov gets his head out of his ass and realizes he needs to retire. Oh, maybe we can convince him to retire to Hasetsu! He would love the hot springs. Anyway, we’ll be world-renowned coaches and choreographers and Hasetsu will flourish with all the tourism we’ll bring in. Every Sunday we’ll go to Yutopia to have dinner with your family. We’ll adopt more puppies. Maybe some kids. How do you feel about kids? We should probably have that conversation.”

Yuuri crooks his fingers underneath Viktor’s chin. “How long have you been thinking about this?” 

“Since last summer. Yuuko mentioned something about Ice Castle’s owners not knowing what to do with the place… I’ve never really said it out loud before. It’s just what I picture when I imagine us in ten years.”

“I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait.”

Yuuri presses Viktor against the wall and kisses him again, slowly, and imagines their house by the sea.

…

They sneak away from the banquet as soon as possible, which takes longer than Yuuri hoped because everyone wants to talk to the gold and silver medalists. But eventually they find themselves back in their hotel room, the door clicking shut behind them. The room has been cleaned, the sheets changed, their suitcases arranged neatly against the wall beneath the TV. 

There are no cameras, no fans, no judges; just them. It’s like the pocket of peace they created in the supply closet, only better—there are lights, a bed, a door that locks, and no equipment to trip over. Outside the window lies the city of Helsinki, lit up beautifully in the night. 

Yuuri’s first thought is,  _ we should probably go to sleep, it’s late and we have a lot to do tomorrow.  _ Except they don’t have anything to do tomorrow apart from a train to catch in the afternoon. They don’t even have to skate. The season is over. A gold and silver medal lie side by side on the bedside table. 

Yuuri leans back against the door, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Viktor leans down and kisses his temple. 

“How about a bath?”

“That sounds perfect. Just a bath, though. I think I’m too tired for anything else.”

“Me too. I could sleep for a week.”

Viktor goes to the bathroom to draw a bath as Yuuri gets to work undressing. He doesn’t get further than his tie (not the light blue one Viktor hates, but a burgundy one he bought Yuuri in Barcelona) before Viktor comes back out. They lay their suits across the back of a chair, too tired to hang them up, and walk together to the bathroom. 

Viktor tests the water then gets in first. He presses his knees to the sides of the tub to make room for Yuuri between them.

“Oh my god,” Yuuri moans. After three months of training in St. Petersburg, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to slip into hot water after pushing his body past its limits on the ice.

_ “Nghh. _ I miss the onsen.”

“Me too,” Yuuri sighs.

“Just imagine, in two weeks we’ll be there.”

“Two weeks.” Two _whole weeks._ Yuuri leans back, his spine conforming to the shape of Viktor’s chest. He rests his head on Viktor’s shoulder. “What are we going to do until then?”

“I have no idea. When was the last time we had two weeks all to ourselves?”

“Last summer, probably,” Yuuri replies. “But we hadn’t even kissed back then.”

“I think I spent all that time imagining what it would be like if we did.”

“Me too.”

Viktor runs the back of his nails down Yuuri’s arms, then back up again. Yuuri shivers. In his ear, Viktor whispers, “I could think of some things for us to do.” 

“Mmm.”

“I’d love to show you the Peterhof Palace gardens. There are so many beautiful things to see now that the snow has melted. It’s like a whole different city. And now that our meal plans are more relaxed, I can take you to my favorite bakeries...”

_ “Yes,  _ please. Vitya, that sounds amazing.”

“Yura can tag along if he ever decides to speak to us again after I kissed your medal on the podium.”

“Ahhh.”

“We can walk along the river… take a ferry ride out onto the gulf…” 

“Mmmm…”

Pressed up against Viktor’s chest, Yuuri’s body rises and falls in time with Viktor’s breathing. Yuuri finds himself syncing his own breathing to the cadence of Viktor’s. Enveloped by water as hot as their skin, the physical boundaries between them dissolve; it’s easy to imagine their bodies as one, some love-struck creature with four lungs and two hearts and nothing in the world to worry about. 

“Viktor?”

“Hmm?”

_ “Are _ you disappointed?” Yuuri hears Viktor’s breath hitch and adds, “Please, be honest. It’s just me.” He already heard how Viktor answered this question for the press, but of course Viktor would claim he wasn’t disappointed. Yuuri needs to know the truth, not so he can beat himself up for causing it—because he certainly doesn’t regret winning—but because he wants to know where Viktor is right now so he can love him the way he needs.

Viktor hums. “Yuuri, do you know where I was this time last year?”

“Tokyo, I suppose.” At the 2016 World Championships, located at the Yoyogi National Gymnasium in Shibuya, Tokyo, to be precise.

“Yes. I won gold.”

“I remember,” Yuuri replies, but he realizes belatedly that he  _ doesn’t _ —for the first time since he was a child, Yuuri hadn’t tried to watch Viktor’s free skate live. He hadn’t thought he could bear it at the time and had gone to skate away his worries at Ice Castle instead.

“The banquet was so dull, Yuuri. For some reason, I think I held out hope that you would be there. I don’t know why. I left early, like we did tonight, and came back to my hotel room. I laid in bed with my gold medal in my hand and I stared at it for what felt like hours, trying to make it mean something, trying to remember what it had been like when I was younger. I thought maybe I could remember why I thought it was worth it.”

Yuuri rubs his palms over Viktor’s knees. He does not interrupt. 

“I decided to retire that night. I made up my mind. But the next morning I tried to tell Yakov and I just… couldn’t. I couldn’t think of a good reason. I was still healthy. I was still at the top of my game. What reason did I have to retire? To retire and do  _ what?  _ I had no other plans. I had nothing else in my life, really, except Makkachin. And then...”

Yuuri smiles. “The video.”

“And then the video. Yuuri, I’m not disappointed. How could I be? I would gladly trade every gold I won in the past five years for that silver medal sitting in the other room. I’m so proud of it, I don’t even know how to put it into words.”

“I know what you mean,” Yuuri assures him. He reaches under the water and grabs Viktor’s right hand, holding it close to his chest. “I wish the world knew that so they would quit asking you about the end of your winning streak.”

“It’s better than the questions I got before. Last year, all they asked about were my plans for next season. It was like they sensed how close I was to giving up.”

Yuuri twists Viktor’s engagement ring around his finger, a habit he had picked up sometime since Barcelona. In the water, the ring glides easily over his skin. Yuuri watches it glisten, trying to think of a way to ask his next question.

“Viktor, speaking of that… I’ve been meaning to ask. What  _ are _ your plans now?”

“I thought I made it very clear that my plans were to marry you and buy a house on the water and become the best coaching duo the figure skating world has ever seen.”

“No, I mean— You know what I mean.”

“Yes. One more season, I think.”

Yuuri lets out a breath. “Okay.”

“I want to have one last full season competing on the same ice as you. I have inspiration now, a few more programs left in me. That’s how I want to end my career, Yuuri, with my best work yet.”

“Okay. Thank you, Vitya.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I don’t know. I just am.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I can’t wait to retire with you.”

“One step at a time, Viktor, we’re not even married yet.”

“When do you want to do that?”

“Hmm. This summer in Hasetsu? That could be nice.”

“Oh. Well, see, Yuuri, I was actually thinking of something more…”

_ “Oh. _ Viktor, it’s okay, that was just a suggestion, we don’t have to get married there. I know it’s just a small town in the middle of nowhere, I just thought—”

“Yuuri, wait. Listen. I want to get married in Hasetsu.”

“Oh.”

“But this summer is too soon! We won’t have any time to plan. These things take a while. We’ll need to build a guest list and make sure people have enough advanced warning to make travel arrangements, and we’ll need to find a venue, unless you want to get married on the beach, which we could absolutely do.”

_ “Oh.  _ You want a  _ wedding.” _

“Don’t you?”

“I want whatever you want. A bigger wedding sounds amazing, especially if you’ve planned it.”

“You’re so sweet to me, Yuuri.”

“You kind of bring that out in people.”

_ “Yuuuuu- _ ri…” Viktor teases, and Yuuri squawks when Viktor tickles his stomach. Water splashes against the tile walls.

“The water’s getting cold,” Yuuri observes.

“Want to dry off and curl up in bed with me?”

Yuuri cranes his head back until his lips press against the underside of Viktor’s jaw. He revels in the sweet, helpless noise Viktor makes, then whispers against his fiancé’s skin, “More than anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/stammiviktor) and [tumblr](https://stammiviktor.tumblr.com/)


End file.
